


Notting Hill (phan edition)

by cluever



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF), dan and phil
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-03
Updated: 2019-02-05
Packaged: 2019-10-21 12:20:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17642690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cluever/pseuds/cluever
Summary: It's just like the movie Notting Hill, like for some parts, I literally copy what they say word for word.If you do not know that movie (I highly recommend watching it cause it's great) here is a thing:Dan Howell works at a comic book store in London. His life is a particularly ordinary one, until one day, the famous actor Phil Lester comes in to look at comics. A few mishaps later and a kiss, his boring life is turned into a tretchorus romance. How well can he manage dating a movie star? He's never even dreamed of something like this before.





	1. 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! Welcome! Idk if anyone will read this story, nor do I care, because I like it. I rediscovered this first chapter and decided I liked it. I started this a few years ago, so it could be a little dated, but so is the movie it's based on so maybe it's fitting!   
> Hope you enjoy :)))

“Stay with us, because later this afternoon, we’re lucky enough to be talking to Phil Lester; Hollywood’s biggest star, by far,” a prerecorded radio announcer said in their usual fake voice of ecstasy they wear.

Of course, I’ve seen his movies and always thought he was, well, amazing. But, you know, a million, million miles away from the world I live in. A man like that in the small bit of London that I call home; I couldn’t imagine it. Like a tsunami in a kiddie pool; he just wouldn't fit.

Wherever you look, thousands of people are buying millions of antiques; some genuine, and some not quite so genuine. People coming out of small shops on the side of the main road with bags of overpriced clothes and knickknacks. Floods of tourists coming in on the weekends and the rush of people every weekday morning to get the their source of income to pay for it all. The typical bit of world I knew. What’s great though, is that lots of good friends have ended up in this part of London. Charlie, for example, architect turned musician who recently has spent all of the money he has ever earned on a fancy guitar. 

And so this is where I spend my days and years, in this small village in the middle of the city, in a flat that my girlfriend and I bought together before she left me for a man who looked exactly like Ansel Elgort. And where I now lead a strange half-life with a flatmate called Chris.

“Dan! Dan! Help me, this is an incredibly important decision,” Chris called as I heard him stumble down the stairs like an elephant on a chicken ramp. I rolled my eyes and closed the front door behind me. It’s so great to come home to someone who is more work to live with than ten toddlers. “I am at last going out on a date with the great Becca and I just want to be sure I’ve picked the right T-shirt.”

“What are the choices?” I looked up after taking off my shoes to find him stood in the middle of the hall in nothing but his pants. As much as I wanted to yell for him to put anything at all on, this was hardly a surprise. It’d be more of a shock to find him covered up, to be honest. I walked past him and into the kitchen.

“Wait here,” he said, bolting up the stairs again. I grabbed a bowl and started to pour some cereal. When I turned to grab the milk, he was basically falling down the stairs to get to me again.

“Here's the first one. What do you think? Cool, eh?” he had on a black shirt with a gravestone on it that read  _ bored to death _ in thick white print. A big grin stretched wide from ear to ear and showed just how proud he was that he owned that shirt. I squinted my eyes and bit my lip, thinking of a nice way to say it.

“I think that’d get rid of the… romantic factor,” I said and shrugged. He just nodded and ran up the stairs again for the next shirt. I poured the milk into my bowl and when I turned to walk to the cluttered kitchen table, I found him perched on the bottom step again in a new shirt. 

“I think this one fits the romantic factor,” Chris said with the same smile again. This shirt, however, was much worse than the other. With a large arrow pointing to his crotch, and said  _ GET IT HERE. _

“Again, she  _ might _ not think you have true love on your mind,” I said with a sarcastic grin. I munched on a spoonful of cereal as he nodded along with what I said. 

“Right, just one more,” he said, holding up a finger and turning around sharply again. I took a few more bites and sat down at the table. 

“True love, here I come!” he shouted, bounding down the stairs and sticking the landing a few steps away from me. On his clean white shirt were two cartoon hearts; one red and one purple. It looked innocent enough, I guess. Much better than the other two.

“Looks good, Chris,” I said, and his face lit up like he knew this would be the shirt all along. 

“Great, thanks for your help,” he said. He pointed finger guns at me and walked backwards to the stairs before turning to run up again. Before he was gone, I noticed on the back of his shirt was another, smaller red heart and the words  _ Fancy a Fuck? _ I pursed my lips wondering if I should say something, but I let it go. 

When I got to work, Tyler was already there, organising the shelves of comic books like they were worth a lot more than they really were. I had been working with Tyler for a few years now in a hole-in-the-wall store selling comics and video games, and, to be frank, didn't sell very many of them. Sometimes, it was more like we were paying instead of getting paid, but we’d squeak by. We enjoy working together and the job is fun for us, so we make do.

“Hey, what's up, Dan?” Tyler said with a sweet smile. He always looked so happy, and, to be honest, it would sometimes get on my nerves. Especially when the shop was going through a financial crisis, and that seemed to happen every other week. However, I'd be lying if I said his positivity wasn't helpful in getting me to relax. 

“Mm,” I said, simply waving my hand in his direction. He didn't take it personally though, he knew me well enough to appreciate any mumble of acknowledgment at all. 

I walked behind the counter and started cleaning up all the paperwork I had been doing the night before when I couldn't have been bothered to pick up. Tyler took a stack of comics and took it to the back room to begin replacing them with the more recent additions. 

When the small bell above the door rang, I automatically looked up, noticing a tall man glide into the shop like he owned it. Dark hair, pale skin, and quite handsome. Almost cliché just how gorgeous he was, like you would see him on the cover of any magazine you could pick up. 

I started filing my papers again, but then I froze. You definitely  _ would _ see him on the cover of any magazine… have I? How do I know this man? And then I looked up again, just to be sure my eyes hadn't lied to me. Why the hell would a world renowned actor like Phil Lester be in my shitty old comic book shop? 

I watched him closely as he browsed along the wall, looking for something. A minute had passed before I realized how creepy I was being. I had to say something, like he was just another customer, but he most definitely was not.

“Um, can I help you find something?” I said, trying to not let my confidence fail me, but it didn't work out so well; my voice shaking terribly. He turned around fiddling with a Superman comic and a small polite smile on his perfect lips… 

“I’ll just look around, thanks,” he said, but to me, it sounded more like singing. He turned back to the rows of comics and started staring down each and every one in front of him. 

“Fine,” I said quietly, more to myself than him, but I did want to try and keep the conversation going. Perhaps this would make for a good story later in life. Something to brag about to my small group of friends while they all would tell me to get my head out of my ass and stop lying.

He turned down an aisle and picked up a glossy book with a large red title, possibly one of the worst comics of the decade, at least in my opinion. 

“That one’s really not great,” I said before I could stop myself. He turned to look at me with eyebrows raised and his mouth slightly opened. “I mean, uh, just in case you were going to end up buying it. It’d be a waste of money. That one’s not that well written,” I rambled. He stared at me for a moment before he grinned a little. I cleared my throat nervously under his gaze. “But if it's Marvel you're interested in, this one--is really good,” I said, picking up a copy of one of my favorites. 

“Thanks, I'll think about it,” he said softly. I found my mind spinning and my mouth moving before I could even think about it. I was so encaptured by the man that I didn't care if we had been just talking about the weather; talking to him at all seemed like a weird, otherworldly blessing. 

“Or, in the recently more popular variety, there’s…” I turned to point out our collection of the new Avengers comics that were inspired by the movies, but something else caught my attention. In the small TV on the desk was the camera feedback from the back of the shop, and there I saw a man shoving a book down his trousers. Did this really have to be happening now? In the presence of a celebrity? So much for my good story. “Would you excuse me for a second?” I said to Phil Lester, though it still shocked me that I was in the same room as him. I awkwardly shuffled out from behind the counter and turned to the back of the room. 

“Hey, uh,” I said. The man looked like he had just rolled out of bed compared to the other standing only a few paces behind me.

“Yes?” he said with wide eyes. His hair was spiked up in all directions and he held his hands out in front of him as if he were holding an invisible book; perhaps pretending he held the one he'd shoved down his pants just moments before. 

“Sorry, bad luck,” I said, a little bit of sarcasm and humor sinking into my weightless apology. His eyes seemed to somehow grow even wider when I spoke. “There's a security camera in this part of the shop,” I pointed at it for him, but he didn't bother to look. 

“And?” he said, seeming to gain a little confidence, but his eyes were still wide with horror. 

“And I saw you put that comic book down your pants,” I said flatly. He didn't seem that put off by it though. I heard a quick chuckle from behind me, but it was almost immediately cut off, leaving me to wonder if I really had even heard it. 

“What comic book?” the man said. 

“The one down your trousers,” I said with an eyebrow raised. 

“I-I don't have a comic book down my trousers,” he stumbled out. 

I stared at him. Honestly, a part of me pitied him for not only being dumb enough to think he could get away with it, but also because who would want to steal a £2 comic? 

“Listen, I’ll call the police and, um, well if I'm wrong about the comic book down your trousers, I really apologize,” I said, crossing my arms. 

He looked around the room for a moment before clearing his throat then. “Okay, let's say I did have a comic book… down my trousers…”

“Well then, hopefully, when I go back to the desk you'd remove it from your trousers and either wipe it and put it back or come up to buy it,” I said with a forced smile. “I'll see you in a sec.” 

When I turned to go back to my desk, I noticed Phil standing at it, ready to buy the awful comic that I had told him not to. He was skimming through it and looked like he had just walked out of a photo shoot. Him, looking so poised and perfect, reading that awful book; it almost made me willing to read it again, just for him. 

“Sorry about that,” I said, smiling at him. He quickly closed his book and set in on the counter. 

“No, it's alright,” he said, pulling out his wallet and starting to shuffle through crumpled receipts and candy wrappers. 

He suddenly looked up at me then with the most piercing blue eyes I had ever seen in my life. I had to look away because they were so bright; like he could see into my soul if given a moment. I was confident that someone could see just how radiant his eyes alone were from a street or two away. 

“I was gonna steal one but now I've changed my mind,” he said. He cracked a more genuine smile then and I couldn't help but smile back. His happiness infected me like it was contagious and I was a willing victim. 

“Signed by the author!” he said suddenly, holding up the comic again. “That's cool!”

“Uh, yeah, literally couldn't stop him,” I started, with a small smile. “If you could find an unsigned one, it's probably worth a fortune,” I said. He smiled again then, his infectious smile. 

“Excuse me,” someone said. I looked over to find the man who had shoved the comic book down his trousers standing next to Phil Lester with even wider eyes than when he had been talking to me. “Can I- can I have your autograph?”

Phil Lester looked taken off guard, even though this probably happened every day for him. Maybe it was because he had heard this man was about to steal from my shop. 

“Um, sure,” he said, taking a pen off of my desk and taking a small piece of paper from the man. “What's your name?”

“Caspar, but it’s with an A,” he said. He smiled slightly at me but I quickly looked away. This man was being kind of awful. Phil Lester scribbled something down and handed Caspar the paper. He looked at it and then at him again. “What does it say?”

Phil Lester looked at the paper again and pointed at it, “That's my signature, and above it it says ‘Dear Caspar, you belong in jail.’” Phil Lester smiled at the man, but it was a forced smile with hidden disgust behind it. I could tell he was trying to make it into a joke, but surprisingly, his acting skills in the real world must not be as good as the ones in front of the camera. 

“Good one,” Caspar said, returning the smile. He must not have seen how fake Phil Lester’s grin was, especially compared to the one he had given me earlier. Caspar stood there, staring at Phil Lester while he shifted uncomfortably. A second too long had passed before he spoke up again. “Do you want my phone number?” 

Definitely didn't see that one coming. Not only was this actor probably straighter than a ruler, but to be so upfront about it was definitely not something you heard every day. 

“Tempting,” Phil Lester said with another forced half-smile, “but no, thanks.” Caspar stood there for another moment before putting his head down and shuffling past him without even a small ‘excuse me’. 

“I’ll take this one,” he said to me after a moment. I stared at him confused before finally catching up with the situation.

“Oh, right!” I picked up the comic and searched for the bar code. “Well, maybe it's not that bad. Actually it's a kind of classic, really. None of those childish fight scenes you find in so many comics these days,” I said. I begrudgingly checked it off and stuffed it into a bag. “And, uh, I'll throw in one of these for free,” I said. I picked up a copy of one of my favorites and put it next to the other in the bag. “Could be useful for, uh, lighting fires, that sort of thing,” I said. Maybe I was being a bit too sarcastic toward this movie star, but it wasn't like I would ever see him again.

He smiled at me and handed me a credit card. I swiped it and handed it back with the bag. 

“Thanks,” he said with a grin. 

“No problem,” I said. He took the bag and glided toward the door again. The small bell rang, but I found myself still staring at the door with my mouth hanging open after he was gone. 

“What did I miss?” Tyler said from behind me, making me jump. I looked at him and smiled.

“I don't think you'll believe who was just in here,” I said slowly.

His eyes slowly got wider, “Who?” he whispered, “Was it someone famous?” he started looking around outside the shop window anxiously with a huge smile on his face. 

I paused for a moment. “No, nope,” I said. It wasn't that I didn't want to brag about the encounter, I just didn't want him to try to chase Phil Lester down the street to take a selfie.

“Aw,” he came back to stand by my side. “That would be exciting though, wouldn't it? If someone famous came to the shop?” he was still smiling like he'd just won the lottery. “Did you know; this is- this is pretty amazing actually, but I once saw Zayn,” he said, looking very proud of himself.

“Where was that?” 

“Kensington High Street. At least I think it was Zayn,” he said, looking a little more serious now. “It might've been that man who sings, uh, you know… Youth?” he said. I raised my eyebrows at him. Tyler was the biggest Troye Sivan fan I knew. Every time we had to clean the shop, that's who he would play for us to listen to. He definitely knew who he was talking about. 

“Troye Sivan?” I said, crossing my arms over my chest. 

“Yes, that's right, Troye,” he said. We paused for a moment after that, staring out the window at passing people on the pavement.

“Actually,” I said, “ Zayn doesn't look anything like Troye.”

“Yeah, but he was kinda far away from me,” he said, waving it off. 

“So actually it could've been neither of them?” I asked. Tyler paused and stared into the corner of the shop for a moment.

“Yeah, I guess, yes,” he said.

“Well, that's not a classic anecdote, is it?” I said, laughing through my words.

“No, nope. Not a classic,” he smiled and started walking to the back room again. “Juice? No! Let's have coffee!” he called back to me.

“Alright, I’ll be back in a bit then,” I said, pushing the door open before he even had a chance to reply. We had an unspoken agreement about who ran the errands on what days, and today it happened to be my turn.

After getting two cups of coffee from the stand a block over from the shop, I found myself thinking about telling Chris about who I saw today when I got home. Would he appreciate it? I didn't know if he even enjoyed that kind of stuff, I'd never talked movies with him before. For all I knew, he was one of those people who hated television and anything to do with it.

I tried imagine Chris sitting down with a book or a crossword puzzle but the moment entered my mind, I couldn't help but laugh. He definitely wasn't someone to read if he wasn't being forced to. 

“Shit!” I shouted as I watched the coffee I was holding slip gracefully out of my grip. The white shirt of the person I had run into was instantly covered.

“Oh my goshhhhh,” they hissed out as they hurried to peel the hot coffee mark away from their skin. My own shirt had gotten pretty badly damaged itself, but I couldn't find the time to care. It was natural for me to find awkward situations, I really should've seen something like this coming and not taken my mind off of the coffee.

“Oh bother, I'm so sorry! I'm so sorry! Here, let me--” I reached forward with the napkin I had clung to in my fall, but the person jumped back like it was a knife.

“Get your hands off me!” he said. Every word dripped with anger and I felt my cheeks heating up. 

“I'm really sorry!” I tried to amend but it didn't seem to be working. It was just my luck really. I looked up to gauge just how mad they were exactly, but I came back with a different realization entirely. 

I had spilt scalding hot coffee on none other than Phil Lester. The same man who had walking into my store only a few minutes earlier. I couldn't help but stare as I went over the colossal mistake I had just made. He looked as if he was ready to punch me.

“Listen, I live right over there across the street. I have, uh--water and soap. You can get cleaned up?” I whispered. I knew he'd reject the offer, but as least I could attempt to sleep tonight knowing I tried to help. 

“Thanks, I just need to get my car,” he trailed off, still wincing as he looked around at the crowded streets. 

“I also have a phone! I promise we can get you back on the street again in no time,” I said smiling. He didn't seem half as mad now that I was doing my best to assist in the situation. My eyes went wide as I went over what I had just said. “I mean that in the non-prostitution sense.”

He sighed and looked at the ground. I held my breath and wondered if I had offended him in some way. He scratched the back of his neck and looked up at me. The piercing blue eyes stabbed into mine for the second time that day but now I had no excuse to look away. He must've found something genuine there though because he let a small smile appear on his lips. 

“What do you mean by across the street? Give it to me in yards,” he said as he let his shoulders slump like he was ready to give up. 

“Uhh,” I looked toward the doorway of my home. The small hanging basket with one lone yellow flower poking out. “18 yards? That's my home there with the flowers, er, flower I suppose.” 

He looked in the direction I was and then back at me. My heart felt like it was going to pound out of my chest. Another sigh later and he smirked, shrugging his shoulders and giving a small nod. 

I don't think I had really expected him to say yes because if I had, I probably never would've offered in the first place. It wasn't until I was unlocking my door that I remembered just how much of a absolute mess the place I called my home was. 

  
  



	2. 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a short one, but I felt like it was a good place to cut off

As I opened the front door, every dirty plate and piece of rubbish seemed to glow. I heard Phil Lester step inside but I was already briskly zooming throughout the entrance trying to clean up what I could get my hands on.

“Right uh, come in. It's not that tidy, sorry,” I said. I'd never put a lot of thought into keeping the place clean and I really regretted that in the moment. If I'd known I'd be hosting someone famous, this place would've looked like the palace. 

I walked over to the bottom of the stairs, awkwardly forcing my hands to stay at my sides. I'd still be cleaning if I hadn't.

“The bathroom is right at the top of the stairs, and there's a phone right on the desk if you need it,” I said. He nodded and set down his coat before leaving. I stared after him until I heard the door click and then I was off again, picking up every stray newspaper and pizza box in sight.

_ Phil Lester is in my home. Phil Lester is in my bathroom. What the  _ actual _ hell? _

I heard the stairs creak and I spun on the spot. He was now wearing a fitted blue shirt with small stars on it. It looked like any old shirt, but on him, it looked like an expensive, high-quality piece of fabric. He could've stepped out on a runway with it, honestly. 

“Do you want anything before you leave? A cup of tea?” I asked, partially trying to be polite, but mostly wanting to draw out the absurd experience. He shook his head.

“No, thanks,” he whispered, slowly stepping further into the kitchen and looking around. It should be illegal to look that good. Why the hell had I offered for him to come inside?

“Right, uh, juice?” I asked, looking around the countertops for anything else he might want.

“No,” he said again.

“Coffee? Er--probably not…”

I opened one of the cupboards to find it nearly empty, save for a small box of chips.

“I've got chips? They're the kind that are supposed to be healthier than the normal stuff, but I don't know how true that is. Probably just something to raise the price. Who buys chips to be healthy anyways? They taste like regular chips to me,” I said, pulling the box out and displaying it like it was some grand meal. 

“No, I'm fine,” he said grinning and turning into the entryway. I smirked and followed.

“Do you always say no to everything?” I asked. I hoped he could tell that I was just joking, otherwise that would've sounded really rude. He turned and paused for a moment, then smirked.

“No,” he said confidently. He was staring into me again with those striking blue eyes and I had to force myself not to turn away. There was a spark of amusement in them. “I'd better be off. Thanks for the help.”

“You are very welcome, and uh,” I started to say trying to find the right words that wouldn't sound creepy, “looking absolutely stunning.” Well, there goes the not-sounding-creepy idea. “Just thought I'd say that now since you'll definitely not be coming back to the shop after reading that comic,” I tried to amend. I didn't really know if it helped, it's not like I had any knowledge of this kind of situation. Not to mention I hadn't really attempted flirting with anyone, let alone a man, for at least three years. He smiled widely with his teeth and it seemed to reach his eyes.

“Thank you,” he said, genuinely.

“Yeah, um, my pleasure!” I said, opening the door for him. “It was nice meeting you. Unreal, but nice.”

He nodded and walked through the door. After tightly shutting it behind him, I put my hands to my face. Unreal but nice? What does that even mean? I walked into the kitchen and pulled one of the old chairs out from the table. What a weird day. Definitely writing this one down.

There was a knock at the door and I rolled my eyes. Who would it be now? The queen?

“Coming,” I shouted, kicking a shoe under the stairs as I went. I opened the door to find Phil Lester standing there with his hands shoved into his pockets.

“Oh! Did you forget something?” I asked, incredulously, like I was seeing him for the first time again. He smiled and seemed to study me for a moment.

“Yeah, just my jacket,” he said sheepishly. 

“Of course,” I turned and lead him back into the kitchen, closing the door again as I went. This was proving to be a very weird encounter and I hoped he could at least tell I was trying my best. 

“Sorry for the weird 'unreal but nice,’ I don't even know what I meant.”

“It's alright, I thought the chips were the real low point,” he said and chuckled. Right, the chips, I must've already blocked that from my memories.

I took the jacket off the table and handed it to him. As he put it on, the door handle started to shake.

“Gosh uh, that's probably my flatmate. Sorry--there's really no explanation for him,” I said, shifting uneasily, staring at the door. Phil Lester didn't seem bothered though.

The door swung open and shut with a thud, only just allowing Chris to slip inside. 

“Hey,” Chris said, waving as he ran through the kitchen, between the two occupants and towards the stairs.

“Hi,” Phil Lester said, following him with his eyes.

“Hello,” I sighed. 

“I'm just going to change and then I'm gonna tell you a tale that will make your balls shrivel up like raisins,” Chris shouted as he jumped up the steps. His door closed and Phil Lester and I stared awkwardly around the room before he turned to leave again.

“You probably shouldn't tell anyone about this,” he said, but it sounded wrong, maybe a little regretful.

“Right, of course. I mean, I might tell myself but I doubt I'll even believe it,” I laughed.

“Bye,” he said, brushing my hand on the doorknob as he left into the streets again.

 

I stared at the TV screen as it played its’ commercials. I'd nearly forgotten about The Encounter but I was still feeling the cringy effects of it. Suddenly, I was struck with a reminder as his face appeared on a trailer for an upcoming movie. He was walking through a city with a girl on his arm. She was pretty famous too, but her name slipped my mind. He looked mysterious and like he really didn't want to be there, but the woman was smiling and laughing. 

“Just imagine, there's someone out there who gets to kiss that amazing woman whenever they want,” Chris said, strolling behind the couch.

“Yeah,” I whispered, “he is pretty amazing…”

 

Was I being targeted or something?

I crossed my arms and grimaced at the bus stopped right in front of the shop's window. There, in high quality picture, was an advertisement for a cologne that happened to be featuring Phil Lester himself. It had seemed all this week, ever since I met him, he was everywhere I looked. Or perhaps I was just noticing him more now…

It's not like I was annoyed by it, however, I was thinking about him more than I would've liked already. Having his face pop up everywhere wasn't exactly helping with that. 

I'd never see him again, at least not in person, so why was I allowing myself to hope? Hell, he probably isn't even gay! I can't just expect every man I find attractive to feel the same. It wouldn't work, even if he was interested, though he wasn't, because he's a movie star! What would an owner of a comic book store and nearly no money have to offer someone like that? 

**Author's Note:**

> Hehehe it only gets better from here folks. If you haven't seen the movie, it might be more fun to watch it after I finish writing it so that it's a little more of a surprise, but it's really up to you!
> 
> Kudos, comment, and all that jazz :)


End file.
